


Omission

by Sadrobots



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: M/M, Mild Sexual Content, alcoholism tw, because William Afton of course, completely ignoring the third book, dead children tw, domestic abuse tw, emotional abuse tw, generally being self-destructive is kind of a theme so tread carefully, gratuitous emotional support, homophobia tw, in a town full of trauma and haunted robots and murder, mental institution tw, sad dads falling in love, self-harm mention tw, suicide mention & suicidal ideation tw, the main relationship is positive tho so the following tags are about the villain:, the silver eyes, the twisted ones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 03:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16467494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadrobots/pseuds/Sadrobots
Summary: "I finally understand why Afton was drawn to him."Clay Burke can't seem to put William Afton away, even with Henry's help. At least his life is better with Henry in it, but Clay isn't sure if he can really trust him, or where their relationship is going.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set in an AU that's mostly based on The Silver Eyes and The Twisted Ones, except in this timeline, Henry survived his suicide attempt. I'm completely ignoring The Fourth Closet.

My wife walks into our kitchen and sees the papers laid out on the dinner table.  
     "You can't bring case files home, Clay."  
     "They're just photocopies," I assure her.  
     "Is this even yours?" Her fingers trail over the tabletop. "I know lieutenant Jenkins isn't putting you on anything Freddy's anymore."  
     "Lieutenant Jenkins is a corrupt piece of shit," I say with a smile. The man plays golf with William Afton, I have to go behind his back if I want to solve anything. Betty raises an eyebrow.  
     "So you're risking your job to do someone else's, that's great."  
     "I don't tell you how to be a lawyer," I look back down at my work.  
     "Carlton was here," she sighs, "to get a glass of milk. You didn't see him, but he saw this." She holds up the photo of the night guard, lying dead in his own blood. Foxy's hook is dull, but the sheer force of the animatronic's arm swing tore through an artery in his neck. He bled out within minutes. Even in grainy black-and-white, it's unmistakably gruesome.  
     "He shouldn't snitch," I try to joke.  
     "For God's sake, Clay, he's eight years old." Her comment lands in my stomach, on top of all the other guilt.  
     "He's my son, he can handle it."  
     "Right," she scoffs, "because you handle everything _so well_."  
     "Look, I'm sorry-"  
She's gone before I finish my sentence. I sigh and continue reading. We've been going through a rough patch, but once I put Afton behind bars, it'll be like none of this ever happened.

It's been two months since Henry survived his suicide attempt, two months since I visited him in the hospital and got more of the truth than he ever thought he'd give. He couldn't go on record, he has to protect his daughter, but he confirmed most of my suspicions. William Afton is a serial killer. A monster who got a taste for child murder after he killed Henry's son. The only thing that shocked me, was that Henry knew. He wasn't a part of it, but he'd always known.  
     "Why didn't you do something?" I asked, less as a cop and more as a father. "How could you stay his friend?"  
He had no answer, he just broke down and apologized for crying, for his weakness, for everything. It was the first time that I understood why someone would try to end their life. I told him that he could set it right, that he could help, but the problem remains that Afton is more than a monster. He's rich, a businessman, a "valued member of the community", with a firm handshake and a winning smile. Although plain evidence points to Afton, Henry has always looked worse. He's a recluse who mumbles more than he speaks, a shy mechanic who spends all his time making children's toys, surrounded by a cloud of gloom and guilt. If you don't go outside, you have no alibi, while a man like Afton can hide behind a double-booked schedule. Now that Henry is officially mentally ill, public opinion has really settled against him, but I'm still on his side.

The asylum looks like a fancy hotel with barred windows. It was picked and paid for by William Afton, so I'm concerned about our privacy, but at least the staff seems well-rested, a far cry from the psych ward at the hospital. The receptionist tells me that Henry is waiting in the garden out back, like we agreed. I spot him sitting on a bench, lost in thought. It takes me a second to confirm that it's really him. His beard is longer than normal and he's wearing all-white scrubs. The short sleeves show his arms, which are toned and scarred. The wounds don't look self-inflicted, they're supposedly accidents from work, but after what he's tried to do, I'm not so sure anymore.  
     "Hello Henry," I say cautiously.  
     "Hi!" He shoots up from the bench and smiles. "Sorry, I didn't recognize you. I forgot to put on my glasses." He touches his face, almost poking himself in the eye.  
     "Good to see you." I smile back at him and shake his hand. He's six foot one and I'm not, my head barely comes up to his chin.  
     "You too, well, sort of," he gestures at his eyes. He seems calmer than usual, I guess he's on medication. We walk along a cobbled path. The garden is planted in a way that almost looks natural, though there's a noticeable lack of trees. I tell Henry about the dead night guard.  
     "It seems that a security door failed and he was fatally injured by one of the animatronics."  
     "Which animatronic?"  
     "The fox."  
The color disappears from Henry's face. His steps become slower, then he stops. I reach out to him and put my hand on his back. I half-expect that to startle him, but he relaxes under my touch.  
     "Sorry, I'm fine." He forces a smile. "It's, uh, it's just hard to imagine my creations doing this. What did you want to ask?"  
     "I wanted to know if this might have been in it's programming, somehow."  
     "He-," Henry cuts himself off and takes a second to gather his thoughts. "I didn't put anything like that in Foxy. He should just dance and maybe wave at people, but... William is a better programmer than I am."  
     "Of course," I nod. I give Henry a moment to think, so that I don't steer him too much.  
     "The door might've just been a power outage, they're not actually that secure, but I could see William setting this up." He grits his teeth. "I thought that he wouldn't do anything while I was here, but I should have known. He was furious, someone had to pay for my actions, just not a child this time." He pauses. "I mean, I can't be sure, but that's what I feel."  
     "It's not your fault," I assure him. He shakes his head.  
     "What happened to the animatronic?"  
     "It's in the evidence locker." The metal skeleton is standing in the corner, covered with a sheet, like a child pretending to be a ghost. "We stripped away the outer layer in order to check the wiring. We also took out the chip, to make sure it doesn't hurt anybody else."  
     "So he's still?" Henry asks.  
     "Like I said, we took out the chip."  
     "Right. Yeah." He rubs his eyes. "I'm sorry, I don't think I can help more than that. It's just strange. I hope the investigators find something. The place should be shut down. I'd do it myself if I could, but... you know."  
     "I know," I nod. We resume walking. He's holding something back, but I can't tell if it's information, or just tears. "Anyway, how's the food here?"  
     "Pretty good." Henry smiles gratefully.  
     "And do you have your own room?"  
     "Why," he tilts his head, "Are you looking to check in?"  
I laugh a little too hard at that joke, but it breaks the tension. We keep walking like we're normal people. He tells me that his sister and Charlie have visited a few times. I wonder if he has friends outside of William. I don't think he does.


	2. Chapter 2

Henry's home is a silhouette against the dark blue sky. I walk around the back to meet him in his workshop. The door is open and yellow light spills out onto the grass. Inside, there's piles of beat-up, moldy boxes. Henry is standing in the middle of the chaos, surrounded by paper, metal and scraps of fabric. He's trimmed his beard, he has his glasses on and he's wearing an orange sweater with patched holes at the elbows. He looks like himself again. There is a blueprint spread out on his work bench. I recognize Freddy's immediately, but then I realize that one of the pages is new and the floor numbering is different. This is why he called me.  
     "Freddy's has a basement!" Henry gestures at the white lines. "Or like, a hidden fallout shelter. I don't know if it was hidden before we got there, or if William doctored things, but," his train of thought switches tracks, "William concealed the entrance really well, but it's..." Henry laughs. "They're going to be there." He presses his index finger against the paper. Everything clicks in my head and my stomach sinks. "The problem is that they never found the bodies, right? Well, they'll be there," Henry continues, "I know William, he's possessive, he'd never dispose of his victims if there was another way."  
     "Does it have more than one exit?" I ask.  
     "It doesn't say so," Henry replies, confused. I take a deep breath. Henry's face changes before I say the words.  
     "I think they're gone."  
     "What do you mean?"  
     "After the recent incident, William had some construction done. Cement trucks came in. He claimed there was open space in the foundation that was infested with rats, who chewed on the wiring." The night guard's death already went away for Afton. He paid for the funeral, he appeared to fix the problem, he eased the victim's family with hollow non-apologies. "I thought it seemed suspicious, but I couldn't stop him." I sigh. "This might be something, I'll definitely look into it, but we shouldn't get our hopes up. I'm sorry."  
     "No," Henry breathes. "No. It's my fault, I should've thought of it earlier." He hits the plans on the table. "I had these. I don't know why he let me have them, he must've made a mistake, but this was just sitting in my attic all this time and I didn't-" His hands start to shake and I remember what he tried to do to himself.  
     "Nobody did." I touch his arm and the shaking stops. "Henry, the FBI has been here for this. They could've gone anywhere they wanted, but they failed to do what they were trained for. So don't make this your mistake." There's something reassuring in the way he smiles at me. I just told him what I tell myself, maybe that was obvious.  
     "I'm sorry I called you up for nothing."  
     "It's no problem." I shrug. "I'm not working right now, anyway, we can pretend I came over for coffee."  
     "Oh." His eyes light up. "Okay. Let's go inside the house, then. Mind the boxes," he warns me, seconds before almost tripping himself.

     "I'd offer you a beer, but I don't have any." Henry gestures me to a chair. His kitchen is messy, but mostly clean.  
     "That's okay, I don't drink."  
     "Okay, me neither." He pours coffee for us. Black for me, too much sugar for him. "Or well, I do when other people offer, but I don't go out of my way, you know, I'm bad enough sober."  
     "Hm." I give him a playful smirk when he hands me my cup. He chuckles and sits down with me. It doesn't take long before we're talking about our kids. Charlie and Carlton are in the same group of friends. Carlton is much more outgoing than her, but Charlie is as brave as she is quiet. I tell Henry about the time I had to help her out of the tree in our backyard, after Carlton and John dared her to climb to the top.  
     "What do you think about John?" He asks.  
     "He's a good kid." I shrug.  
     "He teases Charlie a lot." Henry tugs at the end of one of his sleeves. "He always calls her Charlotte, even though she tells him not to."  
     "That's because he likes her." I smile at his protectiveness.  
     "That's what worries me. I don't want her to think that love and bullying look the same."  
     "I don't think it's that big a deal. He's nice most of the time."  
     "You're probably right." Henry scratches his ear. "Anyway, how's Betty?"  
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. As I struggle to think, I touch my left hand. Henry catches the gesture and sees my ring is gone.  
     "I'm sorry," he apologizes. "I should've noticed, forget I asked that."  
     "No, it's fine, you're not a detective." I grimace. "We uh, she left about a month ago." Most of the town knew within days, even though I tried to keep it to myself. Divorce is frowned upon, but there's no judgement in Henry's eyes.  
     "I'm sorry," he repeats himself, "You must be going through a lot."  
     "I guess you know what it feels like." My voice is flat, I don't want to talk about this.  
     "Well," he hesitates, "I know it's strange to be alone all of a sudden. To wake up without someone next to you."  
     "It is," I admit. "When I walk through the front door, I expect to see her coats and shoes, then I remember why they're not there. It's weird."  
     "Our hallway has this white and blue floral wallpaper, that was just completely her style." He smiles. "I don't think about it most of the time, but every now and then, I notice."  
     "I guess I stopped noticing Betty, in a way, but I thought that was the point of marriage. To just agree that you're going to be there, no matter what."  
     "Sometimes it's for the best," Henry says softly.  
     "This wasn't." I shake my head. "She rushed it. She thinks my work is bad for Carlton, because he keeps being reminded of Michael, but I'm trying to fix it. I'm trying to set us free." Something snaps in my voice and I force myself to laugh. "God, I'm talking too much, I don't usually whine like this."  
     "It's okay," he says gently.  
My anger subsides and my shoulders relax, just like that. It's strange, if anyone else tried to have this conversation with me, I would've walked out at best. There is just something about Henry that puts me at ease, like a warm blanket on a cold day. I finally understand why Afton was drawn to him.  
     "Is something wrong?" He asks. I was staring.  
     "Nothing." I shake my head. "I'm just tired. I should go."  
     "Sure, of course." He gets up and walks me to the door.  
     "Thank you for the coffee," I look at him, "and for listening to me, I guess."  
     "Any time." He smiles brightly, then looks away. "Or you know, no time, that's up to you."  
When I first met him, his awkwardness put me off, but now it makes me smile.  
     "Good night, Henry."


	3. Chapter 3

My house seems much bigger since my wife left. It's bearable when I have Carlton, usually from Monday through Thursday, but even then, there's an emptiness. I figure I should have more people over, but when I rifle through my address book, I realize that I've got a lot of acquaintances and no actual friends. I don't go out to drink with my colleagues, so they're just colleagues. I was on good terms with other parents, but they don't know what to say to me now, except for John's dad, who really wants me to come to church. My eyes linger on Henry's number. I shouldn't call him, it seems unprofessional. The phone dial whirs as I do it anyway.

I set up a playdate for our kids, then ask Henry to stay for coffee. Once again, his face lights up like he won the lottery. We watch TV, we talk about our kids, we just give each other that simple company we used to get from our wives. After a couple of visits like that, Henry suggests Carlton and I could come over to his house, too.

Before I know it, I'm standing in his workshop, watching him unroll red fur on the floor. It's clear that he feels more comfortable when he's doing something.  
     "So," I wonder, "How long does it take to make an animatronic?"  
     "A couple of months, I'm not very efficient." He draws a white arrow on the wrong side of the fabric, to mark the direction of the fur. "Remaking Foxy will be a first. I don't like to reuse my designs. That's why every restaurant has a different look."  
     "I know, it's great for business." I cross my arms. There aren't a lot of restaurants, because Henry makes all the robots with the greatest of care, but that care has struck a chord with people. Tourists come over to this town to see the "original" Freddy, Chica, Bonnie and until recently, Foxy, disappearances be damned. Some people even come here because of them, but I try not to think about that.  
     "I um, is the real Foxy still at the station?" He reaches for a pattern piece and fits it in the corner.  
     "Yes," I answer.  
     "What's going to happen to him?" He traces the edge of the pattern, conveniently avoiding my eyes.  
     "It's going to stay where it is, for now. It might eventually be moved to a bigger storage, or we might return the skeleton to the Fazbear cooperation."  
     "Okay," he says softly. I glance around his workshop.  
     "Are you remaking William's rabbit suit?" I gesture at sketches pinned to the wall. Henry looks like he forgot they were there.  
     "No, of course not." He shakes his head. "That's just for inspiration. Or a warning, rather. The springlock suits were a terrible idea. I'm glad you confiscated Bonnie."  
     "Afton wants it back," I remark. It's strange how Henry talks about the fox like it's a person, but then Bonnie is just a suit.  
     "Yes, he does." Henry sighs. "I don't know why I brought you here. We can go back to the house, if you want."  
I nod. There's something he's not telling me, but I didn't come here to interrogate him.

We're sitting on Henry's couch and I'm telling him about my ill-fated football career. I have his full attention, even though he doesn't care about sports. It's strange to be sitting in this living room, where I know he tried to kill himself, but all traces of that have been remodeled away. Henry looks good, too.  
     "I knew you were a jock." Even his smirk is gentle.  
     "I tried to be, but I came up short."  
     "Well, that's okay." He shrugs and I realize something.  
     "You never make fun of my height."  
     "Is that bad?" His eyes widen.  
     "No, of course not," I chuckle. "It's just different. Most guys do."  
He gives me that soft smile of his, but it disappears abruptly when there's a noise in the hallway. Henry rushes to the front door and talks to the intruder. My stomach sinks when I recognize the smug bass of William Afton's voice. For a moment I wonder if I should hide, but he's already in the room, a seven-foot monster that belongs in a cage. I'm used to seeing him in tailored suits, today he's just wearing a purple sweatshirt and jeans.  
     "Officer Burke!" He grins too brightly and reaches out to shake my hand. Henry trails behind him and shoots me an apologetic glance.  
     "Mister Afton." I let him crush my palm in his passive-aggressive grip.  
     "I thought I saw a strange car out front!" His voice is too big for the room. "What are you doing here? Not arresting this guy, I hope." He grabs Henry's arm and yanks him closer. Henry loses his balance and William uses his free arm to catch him.  
     "Sorry," Henry laughs and touches William's chest as he steadies himself. The intimacy of it makes my skin crawl. "Our kids are playing," he reassures him.  
     "Of course," William puts his arm around his shoulder. "Nobody wants to leave their children alone with you."  
All Henry can do is smile.  
     "We were just about to leave." I stand up. "Have fun, you two." My tone is strict and I throw Henry a cold, suspicious look. He winces and William is pleased. It was damage control, I hope he understands that.

I walk up the stairs to get Carlton, while keeping an ear out for sounds from the living room. I don't know if Afton is physically violent with Henry, but it sure looked that way just now. I pause on the last steps and clutch the railing. Everything about them feels like an abusive marriage. My heart is racing, desperate to act, but sometimes all you can do, is avoid making it worse. I knock on Charlie's door and her tiny voice tells me to come in.  
     "Carlton, we're leaving," I declare. My son looks like I just cancelled Christmas. Charlie's room is like a toy store, full of everything that Henry made for her, an almost suffocating expression of his love.  
     "You said we were staying for dinner!" He swings his arms. Charlie protects a purple rabbit from being struck.  
     "Change of plans, sorry buddy." I don't sound sorry, because I'm trying to stay calm. "Say bye to Charlie."  
     "I'm not a baby," Carlton grumbles, before he says bye to Charlie. He stands next to me as I address her.  
     "Your father is busy right now. Just hang out here until he comes get you."  
She nods. In her own way, she understands.  
     "Bye Carlton. Bye mister Burke."  
The gravel crunches under our feet as we walk onto the driveway.  
     "It's not fair!" Carlton whines. I grit my teeth and slam the car door. It really isn't. 


	4. Chapter 4

I can't sleep that night. I just hope Henry is okay. I know I can't blame myself for Afton's actions, but I still feel responsible. This isn't like my work, where I can witness something awful and switch it off when I get home. Or well, I could do that, before Afton shattered my faith in the system. I roll over in my bed and watch it get light outside. Sometimes I play with the thought of killing him, but I'm not that far gone. I won't compromise my principles for him. Unless he hurt my son, then and only then, all bets would be off.  
     "DAD!" Carlton bangs on my door. "I missed the bus!"  
I laugh and get dressed. As I drive him to school, I let him play with the radio. It's the least I can do after yesterday. Then I crawl back into bed and finally fall asleep.

The harsh ring of the doorbell wakes me up. My first thought is Henry, so I jump out of bed. I barely bother to pull on some pants before I rush down the stairs, hoping to see him in one piece. Instead, William Afton grins at me, like a predator baring it's fangs. He's holding a bottle of red wine. I want to bash it over his head.  
     "Good morning, officer Burke."  
     "What brings you here?" The words come out like I'm in a play.  
     "We never talk anymore." Afton smirks.  
     "It feels like only yesterday."  
His mouth twitches before he forces a chuckle.  
     "That's why I'm here, obviously." He holds the bottle out to me. I'm sure it's the finest wine I've ever been offered. "May I come in?"  
     "Now is not a good time." I smile. "I'm not even decent."  
     "True." He frowns at my bare chest, like I should've expected him. "I take it you don't want my gift, then?"  
     "No thank you." My politeness strains like a rubber band. "Is there something you have to say to me?"  
     "Yes, of course." He sighs. "I have to tell you something about Henry. He's my best friend, so I hate to put him in a bad light, but you should know what you're dealing with. How sick he truly is." He pauses like a machine that needs another quarter.  
     "Are you looking to file a police rapport?" I ask in my most professional, least intrigued voice.  
     "No!" Afton waves his arms like an angry child. I worry about the bottle for a moment. "I'm just saying you should watch yourself around him, especially if you go around dressed like that. Or not dressed, rather," he scoffs. My eyes follow the wine as it disappears into his coat. "Henry looks harmless, but he's not as innocent as he seems. You don't want to get close to him."  
     "What makes you think I am?" I raise an eyebrow.  
     "Right, good. Good." He puts his hands on his hips and nods to himself. "It's better if you don't know, Henry doesn't need more rumours. I mean, I wouldn't leave him alone with _my_ son, but still."  
     "Have a nice day, then." I move to close the door. I may be tired, but I'm not stupid enough to let him get in my head.  
     "Wait, you need to know!"  
I reopen the door. He looks at me with the false sincerity that I know and hate. There's a trace of Henry in his expression, an uncanny copy of his genuine warmth.  
     "He's not like you and me, Clay. It's not his fault, but sometimes, he-," Afton clears his throat, "Sometimes he just can't control himself. Around men."  
     "What." I chuckle, embarrassed.  
     "I'm serious, Clay," his voice becomes ridiculously heavy. "I can handle him, I'm ten times stronger than he is, but God knows what he could do to you."  
     "Um-," I try to react, but my mouth is dry and my throat forgot what air is. It's not that I believe him, it's just, well, it sure is something.  
     "I think I've said enough." Afton grins. "Take care, officer Burke."


	5. Chapter 5

Henry waits on my couch like a child that's been called into the principal's office. I put the fourth spoon of sugar into his coffee and add way too much milk. At this point, I know exactly how he drinks it. He's shaking in his seat, calibrating an apology. I put his mug down in front of him so that he won't spill it.  
     "I'm sorry about the other day," he starts. "William never comes over before Charlie's bedtime, so I thought-"  
     "You did nothing wrong."  
     "Oh." He blinks in surprise. "Thank you. Sorry." He looks down at his hands. I sit down next to him and blow into my cup before I take a sip. I thought he might calm down if I took it easy, but it's not working at all. I guess I'll cut to the chase.  
     "William showed up at my door." I watch Henry's shock as I say it. "I didn't let him in, he just wanted to say something. He implied you were, uhm-," I cough. It's weird to talk to a friend like this. "He implied you were a homosexual."  
Henry shoots up from the couch and throws his hands up in surrender. When he opens his mouth, he starts rambling without any spaces between his words.  
     "It's okay, I'll go. I understand if you don't want to see me again. Just don't tell anyone, please. I never hurt a child, never wanted to, I'm not like that, but if people heard, they'd assume, they'd kill me, and that would be one thing, but my daughter-"  
     "Stop," I command. "Sit down." I point at the single seat that matches my sofa. He obeys me like a frightened puppy. I fold my hands and lean towards him, without getting anywhere near his personal space. "What are you trying to say?"  
     "I'm saying it's true. That I'm-," he scoffs, "That I'm gay, I guess." He spits it out like an insult, like he's just beating himself up again.  
     "I don't think so," I reply. "I mean, it's crossed my mind, I see how you look at William, your relationship is very weird, but you were married."  
     "Gay men get married," Henry objects, a little baffled that I'm arguing.  
     "Maybe if they're like Afton," I think out loud, "but when you talk about your wife, it's clear that you loved her."  
     "I did." He's buried his head in his hands, glasses pushed up his forehead. "In some ways. Not in others."  
     "Wait, but-," I'm getting worried now. "Your kids are yours, right?"  
     "Yes." He lifts up his head, dragging his hands across his face. "I did everything you're supposed to do and most of it was real. I loved living with her and being her family. I loved having someone to hold when I fell asleep." He cringes at his past self. "Really, our marriage was fine by me, but it was so unfair to her, especially when William came along."  
     "What happened then?" I brace myself.  
     "I fell in love." His expression softens and I want to throw up. "It took me seven years to admit it, but I've loved him since the day we met."

He's talking about the man who killed his son, yet he melts into his memories like they're beautiful. I know this happens, I know battered wives stay with men who hurt their children, trapped in a web of love and fear, but how am I supposed to deal with that? How can he live with himself?

None of these thoughts are lost on Henry. He stares into the distance and the nostalgia fades from his face, leaving a man who just wants to die. I push my revulsion from my mind. He needs help, not more guilt. Maybe I can listen to him, like he listened to me.

     "So what have you done?" My voice is calm, almost inviting. "With him?"  
     "Not much." He looks down at his hands. "It's probably not what you think. We were always closer than we should have been, but there was a line. I didn't tell him and he didn't want to know. It was easier that way." He inhales sharply. "The worst thing is that I kissed him, once, when I thought I was going to die. And it really wasn't-," he scoffs, "I couldn't feel anything at that point."  
     "He implied you forced yourself onto him," I say dryly.  
     "Well he would say that, wouldn't he," he sounds exhausted. "I didn't let him kiss me back, so now he says he never tried. He probably believes it, too. It's all the same to him, whatever works."  
     "So Afton is queer as well," I snort. "Well, at least I saw that one coming, he's completely obsessed with you." I expect Henry to laugh, but he cuts me off with a sharp look.  
     "Afton is nothing." He leans towards me. Moments ago, he wanted to disappear, but now the blue in his eyes has frozen over and he demands my attention.  
     "Sometimes I buy an appliance I don't need, to get parts that I can't buy alone. I have to pry it open and break it apart to get what I want. That's what I am to William. If he could, he'd tear out my mind and whittle it down to the parts he likes. He would turn me into an assembly line robot that's nailed to the floor, building what he wants and singing his praises, without a single desire of it's own." The way the venom rolls of his tongue, sends a shiver down my spine. Henry smirks. "Maybe he'd keep my eyes, too. He'd freeze them in one of those moments where they showed how much I loved him, because he doesn't care if there's anything behind them. He just wants that look. He doesn't want me. Not as a lover, not as a friend, not as anything remotely human." He pauses and takes a deep breath. I've forgotten to breathe altogether and glance at his chest like it'll show me how, before his burning cold eyes pull me back to his words.  
     "I need you to understand that William Afton truly, madly, deeply, does not love."  
     "Okay," I chuckle, or whimper, or something else that definitely wasn't the way I intended to speak. For a moment I struggle to reconcile this with the Henry I know, but he's always been intense, it's just that he usually buries himself under apologies and shame.

     "I'm sorry," he blushes and gets up from his seat. "That was weird, I'm weird, I should go."  
     "No." I stand up as well. "Don't get me wrong, I hate that you kissed him, after everything he did, but I like seeing you like this."  
     "Like what?" He's half-scared, half-hopeful.  
     "Angry, at last."  
He lets out a relieved laugh, that turns into a sob. I reach out to him and we hug. He drapes his head over my shoulder, while my face gets buried in his flannel shirt. I probably shouldn't let a guy like him hold me, but it's kind of nice.


	6. Chapter 6

My wife asked Carlton if I've been acting 'weird', which is code for 'drunk'. I pretended to laugh it off, but it hit me like a bullet through the chest. Ten years of trust and now she thinks I'm like my father, even though I haven't had a drop since Carlton was born. Even when we split up, I didn't realize our relationship was over. I thought we were still a team when it came to our kid, that everything could still go back to normal, but I guess not. It's over. It's fine. I got my job, my kid and one entire friend. He's into men, but I'm not the one he wants, so that's fine too. I glance at the clock. He'll be here any minute and I'm still deciding what to wear, like that matters. I grab yesterday's t-shirt off the floor and pull it over my head. Just blue, cheap and plain.

The bell rings and Carlton's feet thunder down the stairs.  
     "Don't answer it!" I yell. The doorknob rattles as Carlton ignores me.  
     "Dad! The door is locked!"  
     "I told you not to answer it." I ruffle his hair as I walk past him. "What if it was a murderer? Or worse, a salesman?" I unlock the door.  
     "It's just me." Henry smiles awkwardly and I hug him, hoping my shirt doesn't smell.  
     "Hi Charlie." I look down at her as I let her father go.  
     "Don't hug me," she says bluntly. Henry and I both laugh. It's a beautiful day, so we sit in the backyard while the kids play on the grass. I tell him about something funny that happened at work.  
     "There's this new recruit and he thinks he's invincible. He keeps pulling his gun when it's completely uncalled for, which is, well," I grit my teeth, "Not uncommon, but anyway, this kid is my junior and I'm allowed to teach him a lesson. Nothing horrible, just to show him up with some disarming techniques, you know?"  
Henry nods attentively.  
     "So, we take it outside and I told him not to put his finger on the trigger. I showed him how to hold the gun safely for the demonstration. Guess what he did."  
     "Oh no." Henry looks at me like I might die in this story.  
     "Oh yes." I grin. "This kid thinks he's smarter than me, that it's fine as long as the safety's on. So, he puts the gun to my head," I gesture at my forehead, "and I disarm him." I tilt my head and mimic the movements in the air, one hand grabbing the imaginary barrel, the other pushing the gunmen's wrist. "Next thing I know, he's sobbing on the ground, clutching his broken finger." I laugh. "So now I'm in trouble because this idiot didn't listen. Oh well."  
     "Wow," Henry chuckles and tucks his hair behind his ear. "I mean, I feel sorry for that guy, broken fingers suck, but you're really cool."  
     "If he was a real threat, I'd have punched him in the face, too." I cross my arms and smile back at him.  
Charlie yelps and Henry is up within a blink. The kids are wrestling on the grass.  
     "Just a moment." He touches my shoulder as he passes me. I hear Charlie yell that she's okay, so I follow Henry to keep him from breaking it up. Just because Charlie is a girl, doesn't mean she can't play rough. Henry crouches down to their eye level before he talks.  
     "You can fight, but say stop if you get hurt, okay?" His voice is too kind for scolding. "Also, no hair pulling, that's cheating."  
     "That's _strategy_!" My kid yells, scaring a nearby bird.  
     "Carlton." I glare at him.  
     "Okay," he mumbles.  
     "Thank you." Henry gives Carlton a nod. My son nods back, looking more responsible than I've ever seen him.

We go inside to put on coffee for us and make sandwiches for the kids. I study Henry as he spreads strawberry jam on bread with an unnecessary precision. The moment I gave him a task, he disappeared into it, happy to put his restless hands to work. I tell him he's good with kids.  
     "It's the kids who are good," he says brightly. I lean against the counter.  
     "You really don't know how to take a compliment."  
     "That's true." He cuts the bread into even triangles.  
     "No," I groan. "You should deny the jabs and accept the compliments. Allow me to demonstrate."  
     "Are you going to break my hand?" He tilts his head and smirks. The butterknife clanks as he puts it down.  
     "Just give me a compliment." I turn to him and gesture at myself. His eyes dart over me.  
     "Well, I like your shirt."  
     "Thank you." I struggle not to laugh.  
     "See, it's awkward for you too," he smiles. "Only William knows how to take a compliment."  
     "Yeah." I look down at the floor. "Speaking of, are you sure things are alright with him?"  
     "More or less." His voice goes completely flat. "He was mad because I talked to you, but I told him that you're keeping an eye on me. I made it sound like you're just making me more lonely and he liked that. He's easy to lie to, if you know what he wants to hear."  
I'm taken aback by how calculated he is. Manipulative isn't the right word, but it's not as wrong as I'd like. He hears my silence and sighs.  
     "Listen, Clay, I'll do what I can to help with the case. You don't have to act like my friend."  
     "Uhm, I _am_ your friend," I scoff.  
     "Okay." He chuckles like he doesn't buy it. "I'm just saying that you don't have to be so nice to me. I'll help you either way."  
Dread fills my chest and blood rushes to my head.  
     "What the hell do you think I am?!" I raise my voice. Henry jolts back like he's the one getting hurt, but I can't believe he'd say that, after I opened up to him, after we spent all this time together.  
     "I'm not trying to use you!" That was too loud. Henry's eyes are wide like a frightened animal, trained to expect the worst. I take a cautious step towards him and touch his arm, because that usually helps. He relaxes slightly.  
     "I'm not-," my voice cracks, "I'm not _him_ , Henry."  
He looks down at me with a soft, heartbroken smile.  
     "I know."  
Now he reaches out, slow and careful as he strokes the side of my face. As he leans in, I realize three things. The first is that his fingers are rough. The second is that I want him to kiss me. The third is that I'd rather die than let it happen like this. I grab his wrist and glare at him like he broke the law.  
     "What are you doing?"  
He blinks like he woke up from a nightmare.  
     "I-, I think I was trying to push you away."  
     "Seriously?!" I know he's been in an asylum, but this is actually insane. "Is that how you ended up with your wife? Because you tried to 'push her away'?"  
Before he can say anything else, our kids walk into the kitchen. Carlton yells something and I still miss what he said. I struggle to carry on like nothing happened, but Henry reverts back to normal without a problem.

This side of him scares me.


	7. Chapter 7

Carlton brings home an invitation to Jessica's birthday party. It's going to be at Freddy's.  
     "What the hell," I mutter under my breath, though he probably still heard it. Jessica used to love Freddy's, Carlton did too, but after Michael disappeared from there, there's no way. "I'll tell Jessica's parents to move it, this has to be some kind of mistake."  
     "I want to go," Carlton demands.  
     "There'll still be a party, just not there." I take out my address book and look for their number.  
     "No," Carlton sulks. "I miss my friends."  
     "Your friends will still be there." I look down at him. He's not making any sense, he sees his friends all the time.  
     "You don't get it!" Carlton flails his arms.  
I put the address book away and kneel down to his eye level.  
     "You're right, I don't. Explain it to me."  
     "I just want to see the robots," he mutters, like it's something shameful. I'm reminded of Henry's strange attachment to the fox. Maybe it's some weird mourning thing.  
     "Okay, that's okay." I pat his shoulder. "I'm coming with you, though."

I call Henry about the party and act like everything is normal. He assures me that William is out of town for the next few weeks, attending to his other business ventures. I drive by his house to pick Charlie up, so that he can avoid the other parents and their suspicious looks. I was hoping we'd go back to how things were before he tried to 'push me away', but there's a miserable need in my chest when I see him. Messy hair, baggy clothes, cautious smile, all of it's strangely charming on him. I keep our interaction brief and to the point.

Walking into Freddy's is like disappearing into the fog. You'd expect a children's restaurant to be bright and colorful, but it's dimly lit and full of cold, dark hues. Even during the day, the place feels like it's stuck in a perpetual twilight, with a purple sky and silver stars. The arcade cabinets and cheerful graphics almost seem like an afterthought, like William Afton made a place he enjoyed and then remembered it should appeal to children. Somehow, he got away with that, like he gets away with everything. Kids are running around, playing in the ball pit and yelling at the games. I guide Carlton and Charlie to the table where most of the party is already waiting. Jessica is beaming with joy, though her eyes keep darting towards the stage. Before the curtains open, an employee brings her birthday cake and puts a paper crown on her head. I force myself to seem cheerful when we sing to her. Minutes after she blows out the candles, the show starts. The purple curtains part and reveal the animatronic band, miming to the music and dancing with stiff, repetitive movements. Freddy sings about how happy he is in his silly, cartoonish voice. I don't believe him. There is something profoundly miserable about these robots and the way they execute their commands, singing the same songs over and over. They seem to be heavy with more than their materials and it gets under my skin. As I continue to watch them, my sympathy turns into revulsion, not helped by the thick air in the restaurant, or all the memories I'm trying to shut out. The children don't seem to be enjoying the show, exactly, but they're strangely calm and solemn, even Carlton. Seeing him like this is almost as unnerving as the animatronics themselves. I'll never understand this place.

After the show is over, the children scatter and Carlton manages to get away from me. I'm not the only parent who came with, but I still feel sick with responsibility, because I am the only cop. I see that Charlie has rushed over to Pirate's Cove, a second, smaller stage that used to belong to Foxy. Lamar and John follow her. Lamar wants to be a pirate, John wants to be wherever Charlie is. I expect to see an "out of order" sign, but the curtain opens and there it is. Red fur, one eye, inhumanly tall, with a hook that can rip your neck open. This isn't the robot that killed the night guard, but the stand-in Henry made is almost perfect. As it moves, it seems lighter than the others. This animatronic just looks like an oversized toy, a weird thing that makes kids smile. Except Charlie isn't smiling.  
     "Where is he?" she asks me, because she assumes adults know everything.  
     "Foxy is right there," I assure her.  
     "That's not him." She shakes her head. John agrees, though he seems less convinced than her. I recall how Carlton talked about the robots. Something is wrong.  
     "Who are you looking for?"  
     "He's not here!" She starts to cry, her little shoulders shuddering. The boys look as lost as I am.  
     "Do you want to go home?" I ask softly.  
     "No," Charlie sobs. "It's Jessica's birthday." She wipes away her tears and pulls herself together, just like her father would.

I drive the children back to Henry's house and tell them to go watch TV. They don't think twice and rush to the living room, while Henry is surprised and a little worried. We sit down in his kitchen. He lets me lead the conversation.  
     "Charlie rushed to see the fox. The new one looks the same, but she knew it was different and she panicked."  
     "Oh." Henry looks down at this hands, sad but not surprised.  
     "There was something special about that animatronic, wasn't there?"  
     "Not really." Henry smiles. "I just... it was the first animatronic I made after I lost my son, so we got attached to it." There's more to it than that. I knew all along and I kept letting it slide, because I let him get too close. A pang of anger picks my words.  
     "Are you fucking with me?"  
     "No!" His voice cracks and he shakes his head. I bite my lip and gather my thoughts before I continue.  
     "For a long time, I thought your problem was that you were too real, because you just couldn't pretend to be a normal guy, but now that I know you better, I'm not so sure anymore. Even if you're not empty like William, lying is second nature to you, isn't it?" I shift to my interrogation voice and Henry moves his wrists closer together, like we're back at the precinct and he's handcuffed to the table, but this is not the Henry I saw then. He was wide-eyed and frantic, like a child lost in a mall, while the man in front of me knows exactly where he is.  
     "Yes," he admits, more resigned than anxious. "I'm a liar, a coward and a bad person. In the most fundamental way, I'm bad at being a person. My wires are all crossed and I'm a waste of your time, but there's one thing I can promise you." The edge of hatred slips into his voice. "I'm not on William's side. Not anymore. I've given you everything you could use and I'm doing what I can to make things right."  
That last part wasn't about helping me. He just admitted that he has plans of his own. Plans he's keeping from me, because I'd have to stop him. I've trusted Henry so far, because the evidence told me that he didn't do anything. I allowed him to omit as a victim, but it's different if he's contemplating a crime. This is where I have to decide if I suspect him as a cop, or trust him as something else, something that goes against everything I stand for. I hesitate for a moment, but there's only one answer.  
     "I believe you." My throat hurts as I swallow my pride. "I just... I've been thinking about those sketches and you just can't make him another rabbit suit. You have to understand that. Serial killers have rituals and this is the key to his. He'd kill again."  
     "I know." There's violence in his eyes. "I'm not helping him."  
I groan and bury my face in my arms, like Carlton when he can't solve a math problem. After a moment of quiet, there's a rustle of fabric. I recognize Henry's fingertips as he reaches for my hand, his touch lighter than a feather, in case I don't want it. Without lifting my head, I open my palm. We just hold hands for a while, all nice and warm, because that's what Henry is. He's not going to hurt anyone.


	8. Chapter 8

I hate the mess I'm in, but I love how I got here. William Afton, master of manipulation, showed up at my doorstep and told me that I shouldn't get close to Henry, because he could do unspeakable things to me. He normally hates himself too much to leave the house, but if I so much as opened the door without a shirt on, Henry would shed all that pain and pull me close, instead of pushing me away. He'd take the lead, he'd take me and he'd be shameless, gorgeous and alive. What an absolute nightmare. How could anyone ever want that. Good job, Afton, you sure showed me.

Today I'm on patrol duty, being the biggest killjoy in town. My superiors aren't using me as a detective, they might think that they're teaching me a lesson, but I like routine police work. When I tell someone not to litter, I'm clearing the streets. Every ticket I write is a case I closed. Henry talks about 'losing himself' in his work and I definitely get that. My job lets me control my emotions and allows me to stop thinking about, well, him. I brake for a red light and drum on my steering wheel, eyes on the road in case someone gets impatient.

A woman runs up from the grocery store and waves her arms to get my attention. There's a rowdy drunk in the parking lot and people are afraid to go to their cars. As I approach the suspect, I recognize Jacob Turner. There's a handful of bystanders watching him, they whisper about Freddy's and how normal he used to be. Store security is nowhere to be found, so I have to take care of this. I approach Jacob in a friendly, open way. There's broken glass at his feet and he's still holding a bottle. I stay outside of striking range as I ask him to put it down. He cooperates reluctantly, so I offer him a ride home. Our eyes meet and he recognizes that I just want to help. He recognizes me.

My reflexes falter and Jacob's fist grazes my face. A bystander shrieks. I need to control the damage. I scout the concrete for broken glass and step out of danger. Jacob attempts to tackle me, but I'm ready this time, so I use his force to bring him down to ground. He screams that I was supposed to bring his little girl back home. More people stop and stare as a restrain him. Even store security shows up to watch the shitshow they could've prevented.  
     "It's okay," I assure everyone, though I'm breathing like I have a cold. Jacob yells that I'm a lying piece of shit. Blood is pooling in my nose, I snort it back and taste metal as I arrest him. There's no denying that he assaulted a police officer, but no one needs to know I bled. He cries against the pavement and I recite his rights like a prayer.

I come home to an empty house. My nose starts bleeding again when I check it in the mirror, but it's not broken, so it's nothing. I was worried about Jacob because cops tend to defend their own, but he was a local football star, while I'm the office killjoy, so he got away clean. An officer actually joked that they 'should get a drink sometime' and jail would've helped him more than that, but when I jumped in to give him a proper warning, I got told to 'give him a break'. I sigh and it hurts, because he elbowed me in the ribs. I used to like being a cog in the machine, but days like this remind me that I can't keep it on the rails, no matter how hard I try. I crawl into my bed and decide to give myself a break, too.

Just thinking about Henry makes me feel better. I used to see him as a victim, but he's so much more than that. He's been through hell and he still knows how to be sweet, that's amazing, he's amazing and such a warm person, I wish he was holding me right now. My heart beats against my eardrums. When I think the phrase 'He doesn't want me', it doesn't even hurt, because I get to remember the way he said it, warm eyes going white hot, bitter desire dripping from his voice, a body that finally allowed itself to take up space. None of that passion was aimed at me, he was talking about William, but it got stuck in my head like a stray bullet. He never looked better and I only got to see that side of him because William Afton, ruiner of lives, assumed I'd hate it. I laugh into the dark and I hate this mess, but I might be in love.


	9. Chapter 9

Henry sounds tired when he answers the phone, but his voice perks up when he realizes it's me. I smile like an idiot and invite him over. We talk for two minutes and my heart treats it like a marathon, I'm light-headed when I hang up the phone.  
    "Keep it together," I whisper to myself.  
My feelings are a guilty pleasure, a distraction, nothing more. If I acted on them, it'd just make things more complicated and neither of us needs that right now, or ever. I'm going to keep this to myself, until I forget about it. When he gets here, I'll be normal.

Henry comes over while our kids are in school. He smiles at me and I give him the quickest hug in the world, because I don't want to be weird.  
    "Are you okay?" He asks immediately.  
    "Of course," I scoff. "Look at my house, everything's in order."  
    "Um, I know," Henry chuckles. "You're good at that stuff."  
    "Sometimes John's parents drop by, to guilt me for being divorced. Have you ever gotten one of Linda's home-cooked meals?"  
    "Some leftovers," he nods, "It was good, they're nice people."  
    "You're 'nice people'." I pat his shoulder. That wasn't a joke, that was an excuse to touch him. I'm a goddamn mess. "Anyway," I gather myself, "They're always trying to get me to admit that I need a wife to cook and clean. Even though I'm like, okay."  
    "Okay," he nods. "That isn't nice. I guess they've said that to me, but you know how I live."  
    "I could help you," I offer, "Though we can't get married, obviously." Hearing myself say that is worse than being stabbed. It's not even close. What the fuck.  
    "I'd be an awful husband." He pats my arm with a reassuring smile. "Anyway, do you want to stay in the hall?"  
    "Coffee," I grunt, "Kitchen."

Henry grabs two mugs from the cupboard, while I prepare the coffee and rethink my plan.  
    "So," I strike a match and light the stove, "You know how I feel."  
    "About what?" He blinks.  
    "About you." I blow the match out. He's not naive, he's pretending.  
    "I mean, I had a hunch." He blushes and averts his eyes. "I tried to help you snap out of it."  
The coffee pot clanks onto the stove, startling him slightly.  
    "So last time we were here," I keep my voice calm, "When you treated me like a consolation prize-"  
    "I thought you'd break my face!" He lets out a sharp, joyless laugh.

The scene replays in my head. I said I wasn't William, he agreed, looked miserable about it, stroked my face and leaned in slowly. Too slowly, he wanted to be stopped, which I did, but he still looked surprised, not because he acted in a trance, like I thought, but because he thought I'd-

Crime scenes flash before my eyes.

    "Did you want me to?" I can't hide my disgust.  
    "I'm a sick man, officer Burke." He borrows Afton's voice down to the cadence, a lullaby dipped in cyanide.  
    "Are you going to kill my son?" I ask coolly.  
The horror almost knocks him over.  
    "NO!" Henry shrieks, scrambling from the shock. It makes me want to laugh, but I keep it to a smile.  
    "I'm not him," I state, "And neither are you. Remember that."  
    "I-," he tries to protest, "I'm sorry." He takes off his glasses and hides his face behind his hand. "I know I say that all the time, but I mean it. I just-," he lifts his head with a deep sigh, shoulders relaxing, lips parted slightly, hopeless eyes on me, "You don't want to feel this way."  
I step up to him while his voice runs through me, all soft and blue and beautiful.  
    "I didn't," I admit, "It seems wrong to want anything, when there's so much to feel guilty about, but when I see you like this-," I run my hands over his chest, "I don't even care."  
I stand on my toes and he trembles against me in a careful, gentle kiss.

It's only a moment, but it's a lot for him. I smile as my soles touch the floor.  
    "You want to apologize, huh?" I stroke his cheek and he nods, flustered beyond words. He rests his head on my shoulder and calms down when I stroke his hair, like a scared dog being petted. The stove tries to disturb us, but I'm quick to turn it off. Henry's eyes dart from the coffee to me, asking what to do next. I realize that he's still holding his glasses and it's so cute that I could die, but I don't, I just put them away for him. He offers me a hug and I bury my face in his sweater, because I'm weird. Worn wool prickles my skin as I feel his body heat, the rise and fall of his breathing, the muscle under his clothes. His arms tighten around me and he runs his hand into my hair. I let out a satisfied sigh and catch a little chuckle from him.  
    "What," I mutter.  
    "You're sweet," he breathes.  
    " _You're_ sweet!" I back away, without actually letting go. "I'm a man, or whatever!"  
    "That too," he smirks. The second I'm embarrassed, he becomes calm. My accidental insult didn't even faze him. I lick my lip without thinking and he mirrors me, but the nerves flood back when I come closer. This push and pull could go on forever, unless I do something really messed up. I stand on my toes and whisper in his ear.  
    "Afton would hate this."

Revenge is the spark that lights him on fire. Henry grabs my face and pulls me into something between a headbutt and a kiss, like he needs to feel my entire skull against him. It hurts my nose and I don't care, because this is him, this is the intensity I wanted. I wrap my arms around his neck and he can't apologize, because his mouth is mine now. I clutch at his hair, his fingers dig into my back and we struggle for balance. He picks me up and I squeal in surprise, but he laughs with me, not at me, so I wrap my legs around him and it's all good. His hand slips under my t-shirt and I smile to myself, before I grab the back of my collar and yank my shirt over my head. He does a double-take, like he just realized what's going on.  
    "Too much?" I ask.  
He shakes his head, so I throw my shirt on the floor and give him a moment. I catch my breath and lean against the counter while he takes me in. When he looks at me, really looks at me, I feel like a million bucks.  
    "Can I touch you?" He asks.  
    "Of course," I scoff. His fingertips trail down my chest, over my stomach, until he subtly, but definitely, tugs at the edge of my jeans. He gives me another questioning look. I was about to tell him that we could take it slow, but now my head is spinning and okay, absolutely, hell yes. He removes my belt and lays it on the table, still considerate, still himself, but smoother. I shudder against him as he kisses my forehead and maybe this is wrong, maybe I haven't thought this through, but all my doubts melt away as he makes his way down, until he's on his knees and I surrender.

 


End file.
